Bad Apple
by Klutor the Ninth
Summary: The climax of Twilight, as seen through the eyes of James. What was he thinking at the time? Why did he hunt Bella in the first place? And what was his life like before the events of Twilight? Rated M for a bit of violence and language here and there.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Marauders:

_Humans don't really know much about vampires_, James thought as he opened his eyes. _They think: "Oh sure, they're immortal and they drink blood – and they're really strong and really fast"_. Some victims found out about the special individual ability, some found out that their eyes changed color depending on how full their stomachs were; hell, most victims learned about the invulnerability-factor pretty quickly.

But there were still a few things you didn't know until you were a vampire yourself.

Like the forced-flashback thing.

Laurent called it the "automatic replay" (he had a name for everything). When a vampire was wounded or incapacitated, instead of blacking out like a human would, it relived a couple of significant memories, pivotal moments in its life. According to Laurent, it was hell. James disagreed; his life as a vampire had been awesome. Not perfect, not without difficulties, but still awesome.

Up until the moment the Cullens outsmarted him, of course.

He lay sprawled on his back, his body aching with hunger and exhaustion. The fight with Edward hadn't exactly been fair – Edward must have fed recently, and he'd travelled to Phoenix by car instead of running – but James was far more experienced, more vicious and more battle-ready than the idiotic prettyboy. Therefore Edward only barely managed to pin him to the floor, after a brawl that had smashed several mirrors and wooden pillars in the studio to pieces.

Now Edward was pulling James up, twisting the other vampire's head back and baring his teeth.

_You wanna bite _me_, now?_ James thought incredulously. _What are you, a Reaper? Never mind; you won't know what I'm talking about. You're too much of a wuss to have ever watched_ Blade.

He never found out if Edward was going to bite him or not, because his nose suddenly detected three more golden-eyed vampires.

Moments later, Carlisle and his other two foster sons leapt through an upper window like ninjas with makeup on, neatly landing on their feet and rushing to Edward's side.

"It's a good thing you're not a ninja," Laurent remarked as Victoria came rushing down the hall behind him. "You make far too much noise,"

"She's Victoria, mate," James said, brushing his hand through his wet hair. "Loud and lovely,"

The three of them had broken into a Seattle couple's home half an hour before. Laurent took down the man, while the other two dragged the woman to the bedroom and shared her. Now Laurent was sitting on the sofa; his eyes focused on the TV, his arms folded and his feet propped up on the back of the bloodied corpse that was draped over the coffee table in front of him. Sweets, popcorn and broken bottles were scattered across the floor, clinging to the bloodstains like breadcrumbs to syrup.

"Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on a damn movie with you two fornicating in the next room?" Laurent leapt up, gesturing to an inch-wide crack in the wall separating the living room from the bedroom.

Victoria glanced over his shoulder at the screen, where Daniel Radcliffe was trying to save Gary Oldman from a swarm of Dementors.

"_Prisoner of Azkaban_," she said, frowning. "Haven't you seen this one before?"

"I'm pretty sure he has," James said from behind her.

"I still want to see the ending," Laurent hissed indignantly.

"Gary Oldman gets away," James said helpfully. "He always survives – he's Gary Oldman,"

"Except in _Bram Stoker's Dracula_," Victoria added.

"I still. Want. To. See. It. Happen!" Laurent insisted, waving his arms up and down for emphasis.

"Why so serious?" James asked, catching Victoria's eye.

Laurent gave him a dirty look.

"Sorry. But I mean, come on," James said, chuckling. "I know you've watched it before. See, I remember your reaction the first time you saw Lupin transform. You were scared shitless,"

Another dirty look.

"You're wearing a _towel_," Laurent said, as if this was somehow supposed to make James bow his head in shame.

It didn't.

"I had to take a shower," he said simply. "Girl's blood was all over me,"

"Actually, we wanted to tell you something," Victoria said to Laurent, her eyes lingering on James' bare chest.

"I'm all ears," Laurent said lazily, turning his head to watch as Michael Gambon talked to the kids in the hospital wing.

"I picked up another flatliner," Victoria said. "A girl, somewhere between fifteen and twenty. No sense of self-preservation _whatsoever_. I can't figure out what her deal is, so I thought maybe we should go have a look."

Victoria's ability was self-preservation; not only did it make her the Houdini of vampires, it also allowed her to detect the strength of other people's survival instincts. The radius of her ability was far larger than that of James' nose or Laurent's "misery business" (that was what he called his own skill; he could sense when and where people experienced misery, despair or hopelessness).

"Sounds interesting, I suppose," Laurent said. "Is it really deep, like clinical depression, or is it a shallow self-loathing like you get with those emo kids? Or does it bounce up and down? Cause that would be a bipolar disorder,"

"I don't know yet," Victoria said. "She's too far away – right on the edge of my radar. There's no _way_ James could pick up her scent from here,"

"Well, that's _exactly_ the kind of crack police work I expect out of you guys,"

"Could you stop jerking around, please?"

"Yeah, come on, man," James added. "This could be your next meal – or _Vicky's_ next meal, if you don't want it. Are you really going to sit here when that girl could jump off a building any time soon? Or a cliff, for that matter,"

"I didn't just 'sit here', you know," Laurent retorted. "I went through the guy's pockets. Apart from some cash, which is always appreciated, I found _this_,"

He fished in his pocket, digging out a car key and throwing it to James, who caught it easily.

"A minivan?" James could feel his eyebrows lifting. "Are you kidding me?"

"Hey, they're not bad," Laurent said. "Besides, all three of us were hippies, once upon a time. This is gonna be like a blast from the past,"

"From that extremely cliché'd line, I assume you're saying yes," Victoria said, smiling. "Perfect,"

"Awesome!" James grinned.

"Get dressed first, you dirty man-whore," Laurent growled. "And let me watch the last five minutes in peace and quiet,"


	2. Chapter 2

**Yeah, so I first published this thing without the all-important Author's Note (tm). To those who already read it - sorry about that.**

**Either way, here goes:**

***clears throat***

**This is the story of James. The bad guy from Twilight, you know, the tracker?**

**Yeah. Him.**

**I wanted to deconstruct a lot of elements from the source material, since I'm a rather fervent anti. That's right, folks - I'm an anti.**

**Not a fan. The stalking and sparkling make me uncomfortable and freaked-out.**

**Repeated for dramatic effect, and all that.**

**Nevertheless, this story will end the same way as in canon (with James dying), so it's not about the destination. It's about the journey.**

**That said, enjoy the fruit (no lame pun intended!) of my labour.**

**Here it is.:-)**

Chapter 1: Marauders:

_Humans don't really know much about vampires_, James thought as he opened his eyes. _They think: "Oh sure, they're immortal and they drink blood – and they're really strong and really fast"_. Some victims found out about the special individual ability, some found out that their eyes changed color depending on how full their stomachs were; hell, most victims learned about the invulnerability-factor pretty quickly.

But there were still a few things you didn't know until you were a vampire yourself.

Like the forced-flashback thing.

Laurent called it the "automatic replay" (he had a name for everything). When a vampire was wounded or incapacitated, instead of blacking out like a human would, it relived a couple of significant memories, pivotal moments in its life. According to Laurent, it was hell. James disagreed; his life as a vampire had been awesome. Not perfect, not without difficulties, but still awesome.

Up until the moment the Cullens outsmarted him, of course.

He lay sprawled on his back, his body aching with hunger and exhaustion. The fight with Edward hadn't exactly been fair – Edward must have fed recently, and he'd travelled to Phoenix by car instead of running – but James was far more experienced, more vicious and more battle-ready than the idiotic prettyboy. Therefore Edward only barely managed to pin him to the floor, after a brawl that had smashed several mirrors and wooden pillars in the studio to pieces.

Now Edward was pulling James up, twisting the other vampire's head back and baring his teeth.

_You wanna bite _me_, now?_ James thought incredulously. _What are you, a Reaper? Never mind; you won't know what I'm talking about. You're too much of a wuss to have ever watched_ Blade.

He never found out if Edward was going to bite him or not, because his nose suddenly detected three more golden-eyed vampires.

Moments later, Carlisle and his other two foster sons leapt through an upper window like ninjas with makeup on, neatly landing on their feet and rushing to Edward's side.

"It's a good thing you're not a ninja," Laurent remarked as Victoria came rushing down the hall behind him. "You make far too much noise,"

"She's Victoria, mate," James said, brushing his hand through his wet hair. "Loud and lovely,"

The three of them had broken into a Seattle couple's home half an hour before. Laurent took down the man, while the other two dragged the woman to the bedroom and shared her. Now Laurent was sitting on the sofa; his eyes focused on the TV, his arms folded and his feet propped up on the back of the bloodied corpse that was draped over the coffee table in front of him. Sweets, popcorn and broken bottles were scattered across the floor, clinging to the bloodstains like breadcrumbs to syrup.

"Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on a damn movie with you two fornicating in the next room?" Laurent leapt up, gesturing to an inch-wide crack in the wall separating the living room from the bedroom.

Victoria glanced over his shoulder at the screen, where Daniel Radcliffe was trying to save Gary Oldman from a swarm of Dementors.

"_Prisoner of Azkaban_," she said, frowning. "Haven't you seen this one before?"

"I'm pretty sure he has," James said from behind her.

"I still want to see the ending," Laurent hissed indignantly.

"Gary Oldman gets away," James said helpfully. "He always survives – he's Gary Oldman,"

"Except in _Bram Stoker's Dracula_," Victoria added.

"I still. Want. To. See. It. Happen!" Laurent insisted, waving his arms up and down for emphasis.

"Why so serious?" James asked, catching Victoria's eye.

Laurent gave him a dirty look.

"Sorry. But I mean, come on," James said, chuckling. "I know you've watched it before. See, I remember your reaction the first time you saw Lupin transform. You were scared shitless,"

Another dirty look.

"You're wearing a _towel_," Laurent said, as if this was somehow supposed to make James bow his head in shame.

It didn't.

"I had to take a shower," he said simply. "Girl's blood was all over me,"

"Actually, we wanted to tell you something," Victoria said to Laurent, her eyes lingering on James' bare chest.

"I'm all ears," Laurent said lazily, turning his head to watch as Michael Gambon talked to the kids in the hospital wing.

"I picked up another flatliner," Victoria said. "A girl, somewhere between fifteen and twenty. No sense of self-preservation _whatsoever_. I can't figure out what her deal is, so I thought maybe we should go have a look."

Victoria's ability was self-preservation; not only did it make her the Houdini of vampires, it also allowed her to detect the strength of other people's survival instincts. The radius of her ability was far larger than that of James' nose or Laurent's "misery business" (that was what he called his own skill; he could sense when and where people experienced misery, despair or hopelessness).

"Sounds interesting, I suppose," Laurent said. "Is it really deep, like clinical depression, or is it a shallow self-loathing like you get with those emo kids? Or does it bounce up and down? Cause that would be a bipolar disorder,"

"I don't know yet," Victoria said. "She's too far away – right on the edge of my radar. There's no _way_ James could pick up her scent from here,"

"Well, that's _exactly_ the kind of crack police work I expect out of you guys,"

"Could you stop jerking around, please?"

"Yeah, come on, man," James added. "This could be your next meal – or _Vicky's_ next meal, if you don't want it. Are you really going to sit here when that girl could jump off a building any time soon? Or a cliff, for that matter,"

"I didn't just 'sit here', you know," Laurent retorted. "I went through the guy's pockets. Apart from some cash, which is always appreciated, I found _this_,"

He fished in his pocket, digging out a car key and throwing it to James, who caught it easily.

"A minivan?" James could feel his eyebrows lifting. "Are you kidding me?"

"Hey, they're not bad," Laurent said. "Besides, all three of us were hippies, once upon a time. This is gonna be like a blast from the past,"

"From that extremely cliché'd line, I assume you're saying yes," Victoria said, smiling. "Perfect,"

"Awesome!" James grinned.

"Get dressed first, you dirty man-whore," Laurent growled. "And let me watch the last five minutes in peace and quiet,"

**So, chapter 1...**

**Loved it, hated it, couldn't care less?**

**Please tell me with a review.**

**Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah, I screwed up with the labels and stuff. You can stop laughing now.**

**Here's Chapter 2, as in, the actual second chapter.**

**In which there is some Backstory and Exposition (shock horror!).**

**I sincerely hope that it's not too boring, because I tried to make it as non-boring as I possibly could, while still putting in some things that needed to be, well, put in there.**

**If, however, you found it boring - tell me straight up in a review.**

**I won't bite.**

**I won't break your wrist, either.;-)**

Chapter 2: Under The Surface

There were three of them.

Just three.

Their coven didn't have a formal, official name; only a handful of tongue-in-the-cheek title. Laurent called the "The Three Amigo's" or the "Unholy Triumvirate", Victoria called the "The Track Pack" or "The Heme-Hikers" and James, who had a hidden flair for the dramatic, usually referred to them as "The Lost Children of the Damned".

James and Victoria had been together for thirty-five years by the time Laurent met up with them in 1980. He joined forces with them, became friends with them; and soon the trio were drifting around throughout the US, never staying in one place for very long, always moving out and moving on. They cut a bloody swath through the eighties, the nineties and the noughties – enjoying everything immortal life had to offer.

James never actively _tried_ to seize the leader-position: it just seemed to jump into his hands all by itself. He was calculating, analytical, methodical to an almost compulsive degree. He was a dreamer, a thinker, a planner.

In most ways, Victoria was his polar opposite. Brash, impulsive, spontaneous Victoria… she of the sharp tongue, she of the ferociously volatile temper. Where James was patient and careful, Victoria was the type to wear her heart on her sleeve (usually studded with swearwords and embroidered with exclamation marks).

As result of this, there were times when they didn't exactly see eye to eye – and other times when they _completely and vehemently_ disagreed with each other.

And then there was Laurent; the middle ground, the balancing factor. He was usually calm and collected, although he could get worked up rather unexpectedly as well. His age and experience made him a valuable addition to the team, and his adaptability almost rivaled that of the other two.

His moods varied according to the atmosphere, especially whatever James and Victoria were up to. Sometimes, when they were being loud or silly, he would be the angry old man; telling them to calm down and shut up. When the other two were having a fight, he would – strangely enough – _not_ play the role of the gentle pacifist or the sensitive psychologist or the neutralizing marriage counselor with an attitude of "why can't we all just get along?"

James and Victoria wished he _would_ do that, though.

Some of their fights became rather vicious. A simple misunderstanding, or a small disagreement, could easily degenerate into a full-blown shouting match. Soon the air would be thick with bristling anger and seething indignation as they hurled insults and accusations at each other like a never-ending supply of Molotov cocktails.

Laurent didn't try to calm them down, didn't tell them off, didn't step in between them and shout at them to stop. He never said anything about how they should apply proper conflict management skills, how they should attack the problem instead of each other, how they shouldn't speak before thinking and end up saying something they'll regret later on because it hurt the other one badly and he knew; he _knew_ how much they loved each other, which was why they weren't supposed to let this come between them, they weren't supposed to _fight_ like this... and also, they were giving him a headache, the little bitches.

Oh no.

Laurent never did that. He never said anything when James and Victoria were fighting.

Instead, he started singing. And not just any song, either: "Don't worry/About a thing/Cause every little thing/Is gonna be all right. I said don't worry/about a thing—"

He didn't need to go much further than two or three lines, because it worked like a charm. The two of them immediately stopped fighting and started working together to get him to stop – after which they apologized to each other, sorted out the problem in a peaceful and mature way and spent the next couple of hours cuddling and joking and discussing things like the accuracy of Alan Turing's predictions, the effect the Beatles had on mainstream music or the enormous amount of double entendres in _Romeo and Juliet_.

The reason it worked was not just because Laurent couldn't sing to save his life, or because it's _really annoying_ when you're trying to have a marital dispute and someone starts singing so loudly that you can't hear yourself shouting.

No; it worked because the specific song he picked was so stereotypical. And if there was one thing the Three Amigo's could agree on, it was their hatred of stereotypes.

James didn't go around wearing tuxedos and speaking in an overblown, phony Transylvanian accent just because he happened to be a vampire. Victoria didn't dye her hair black and dress like a gothic dominatrix just because she was a female vampire. And Laurent didn't smoke weed and listen to Bob Marley over and over again just because he was a "black dude with dreadlocks".

They didn't flaunt their vampirism when among humans. When they weren't in a position to stick to the shadows, they disappeared in plain sight by blending in, by looking and sounding and acting human.

They used human overconfidence and inattentiveness to their advantage, especially whenever superspeed was out of the question. Like many predators in the animal kingdom, they made use of camouflage.

Because the best type of hunter is the one who can use the element of surprise.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You are the worst hunter I have ever seen!"

"But Father—"

"I'm not finished, James!" His father silenced him with a wave of his hand. "You should be ashamed of yourself. You are a Witherdale; our family has brought forth _generations_ of the finest big game hunters this country has ever seen! Your grandfather bagged _thousands_ of bison. But _you_ – you're nothing but an utter disappointment."

"But Father, I don't _want_ to be a hunter," he protested weakly. "I want to become a mathematician,"

Shock passed over his father's face like a dark cloud, but it was quickly replaced by anger that made him look nothing short of monstrous.

"A _mathematician_? Oh ho!" he coughed with bitter laughter. "No son of mine will go dilly-dallying with all those soft-handed academic sorts! I'll _never_ allow it! I'll make you a proper hunter if it's the _last thing I do!_"

He breathed heavily, leaning on the table to compose himself.

"John," James' mother said gently. "Maybe you should let him choose his own path in life,"

"His path is that of a hunter, Mary," his father said gruffly as he fished in his waistcoat's pockets for matches and pipeweed. "Hunting is in his blood, and sooner or later he will have to make peace with that fact,"

**Please review guys!**

**Even if it sucked.**

***looks up at previous line***

**Oh dear... just what IS it with me and lame puns?**


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